


Rescuing A Cute Cat With A Cuter Girl

by delphinidae



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Apartment AU, F/F, queen of the rare pair tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5911900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphinidae/pseuds/delphinidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ibuki comes home to the wrong apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescuing A Cute Cat With A Cuter Girl

**Author's Note:**

> idk how well that summary works ://  
> anyway this took me a rly long time to write but i'm so proud of about 90% of it and the word count  
> draft bec i do plan on revising and rewriting soon

When Ibuki left the after party, the moon had not only already risen to its highest, it looked about to start its descent back down before disappearing again. She stumbled out the club's back door, and headed down the street to the bus stop, clutching a black purse in one hand as though she might lose it forever if she slackened her grip in the slighest, despite the long chain that held it over her shoulder.

It was dark and rain drops drizzled around her, refreshing after hours in a crowded building full of sweating drunk musicians. Not to say that she didn't drink a little herself, but the atmosphere was exhausting after a while. The light rain cooled her burning skin and the silence of the night was only broken by a slight ringing in her ears.

After she climbed onto the bus, steadying herself with a hand on a grab hold, she sunk into a seat near the back door and pulled out her phone.

2:18 AM

It was earlier than she'd expected to leave the party, so for a brief moment she considered stopping at a bar on the way back. A karaoke bar could be fun--if there were any open and busy at 2:18 on a Tuesday morning.

The rumble of the bus's engine as it left the station left a pounding in Ibuki's head, so she dismissed the karaoke idea and plugged the headset that hung around her neck into the phone.

She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes they were nearing her stop, and her phone was playing a song she couldn't remember starting.

The intoxication was wearing off, but she was growing sleepier by the second, leaving her senses as dulled as they had been. She thanked the bus driver and stepped off the bus, but to her dismay, missed the sidewalk and planted her foot in a puddle.

Worn out converse were far from water resistant, let alone waterproof, so she trudged up the path and steps to her apartment building with a soaked right sock and a horribly cold foot.

Fumbling through her purse for keys to the building, she let out an annoyed hiss. She couldn't have possibly left them at the venue--she never took them out of her purse without a reason and there had been none since she left the building in the early evening.

She bit her tongue to hold back a frustrated shriek, but at the same moment she felt the familiar cold serrated metal in her hand.

A bell sounded as she opened the door, seeming louder than usual in contrast to the dead quiet night. _Morning_. When was the last time she'd been home before midnight? Three days ago. Two nights she and her band had spent rehearsing before sharing drinks and smokes. Last night was their concert, one of many, but the first in a fairly well-known venue.

She doubted anyone in the mob of club-goers knew even the name of her band (although the band members themselves seemed to struggle with the same thing, changing it every so often; tonight they performed as Apocalypse Sunday) but it was good publicity nonetheless. Maybe one or two had gone home with a new favourite artist.

The elevator across the small lobby hummed to life the moment she pressed the fifth floor button. It took all her concentration to steady her hand as she pressed it, and when the metal box started moving she had to tightly hold the safety bar with one hand to keep from falling over, the other hand on her stomach which was beginning to growl in protest of alcohol, late nights and the jerky elevator movement.

The hallway she stepped into was dimly lit as usual, and uncomfortably silent. She leaned against a wall for support as she crept along the carpet to her own apartment.

To Ibuki's tired and pleasant surprise the door creaked open with a jiggle of the doorknob, no need for the keys she'd already shoved back into her purse. Something brushed past her ankles as she entered the cramped living space, triggering a startled, fortunately quiet yelp.

Probably a cat, she told herself, though her heart was still pounding, for a brief moment her fatigue forgotten. It was more than likely the fluffy tabby that had a knack for breaking into her apartment at least once a week.

The door shut behind her, immersing her in pitch darkness which she welcomed as she fell onto the sofa and closed her eyes.

\+ + +

A loud clatter startled Ibuki from her sleep. She shot upright--almost immediately feeling nauseuous as she did so--as the noise processed and she realized it was coming from the kitchen behind her. With an arm draped over the back of the sofa she leaned toward the source of the sound and squinted as though it might allow her to see through the walls.

Though her vision was fading in and out, in the doorway, only briefly, appeared a short statured girl in shorts and a t-shirt that appeared to be a pajama set.

Ibuki slipped off the couch and crept toward the kitchen and the stranger, careful not to step anywhere she knew the floor would creak.

As she approached, she had a peculiar feeling of something being slightly off in this apartment. Maybe it was the lighting--had it ever been so bright in here before?--which was doing nothing to soothe the headache still pounding against her skull.

"What the hell are you doing in Ibuki's apart--" The girl spun around to face her.

Ibuki was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded across her chest, but she couldn't continue in such a rude manner toward such a cute girl. And besides, as she started speaking it occurred to her that this kitchen was nothing like her own. Instead of dirty dishes in the sink or a frying pan left full of soapy water on the stove, this kitchen was tidy, the counter clear aside from a toaster oven and a coffee maker, while a suspiciously citrus aroma filled the air.

She clasped her hands together when the realization hit her. With an apprehensive smile, she muttered, "This isn't Ibuki's apartment..."

The girl shook her head. Her pastel pink bob swayed as she did so, and it triggered a reaction in Ibuki's chest that she might describe as her heart going " _thump, badump!_ "

"No, this is Chiaki's apartment...I think." She pressed her index finger to her chin and glanced up toward the ceiling. "Unless this is some kind of alternate reality."

The girl, Chiaki, seemed deep in thought, considering this possibility when Ibuki interrupted the silence with a nervous laugh. "Please don't call the superintendent."

"Oh." Chiaki looked back at Ibuki with striking intensity. (Her eyes, Ibuki admired, were the same pale colour as her hair.) "I won't report you...If you tell me why you're here." she said in a surprisingly gentle voice. She showed not a hint of aggression in this situation that even Ibuki wouldn't tread so lightly about.

"Uh...Well." Ibuki hesitated. Scratched the back of her neck. Twirled her thumbs. Let out an uncharacteristically nervous giggle. Wondered just how did she end up here?

At last she admitted, "I'm, er, not really sure. But maybe Ibuki could tell you if you let me have a cup of coffee?" Her headache was still strong, and she thought perhaps coffee could help. It felt like someone was repeatedly rapping their fist against her skull like they would a closed door. Was anyone home? Probably, but too hungover to answer.

By this time Chiaki was no longer looking at the intruder; instead she was on her tip-toes, reaching into a cupboard off to the side. Maybe she was already about to offer coffee, Ibuki hoped. Unfortunately, it wasn't mugs she pulled out but two ceramic dishes.

"Amnesia?" Chiaki asked, although it didn't soung to be directed at Ibuki at all, rather like she was thinking aloud. "I've never heard of coffee helping amnesia though." She left the dishes on the counter to fetch a round tin from the refridgerator opposite the the door.

"No," Ibuki muttered. "Ibuki was sorta tired when I got home last night. And, uh, maybe a bit drunk. I don't remember much."

Chiaki pried open the tin, releasing an odour that overpowered the scent of citrus dish soap.

Ibuki scrunched up her nose in disgust as the pink-haired girl smushed some ugly brown pâté into each dish. To her relief, Chiaki placed the dishes on a mat on the floor: It wasn't some disgusting breakfast concoction for the two of them.

"Midna! Rallen!" Even when she raised her voice, it was gentle.

The guitarist was startled by movement in her peripheral vision--a chubby orange tabby trotted past her toward the food on the kitchen floor. Chiaki greeted it with a, "Hey there, Rallen. Is your sister afraid of our company?"

She looked up and flashed Ibuki a meek smile that made her heart start thumping again.

And then it was thumping harder when she caught a blurred memory from last night. "Shit," she mumbled.

Chiaki raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Um. Last night...Ibuki may have...Well, I kind of let a cat out when I came in last night."

She furrowed her brows. "Midna hasn't been out in the halls before," Chiaki said quietly--more quietly than before.

Ibuki looked down, nervously picked at her chipped black nail polish. There was also the unspoken problem she was forced to acknowledge: Cats were illegal in this particular apartment building. Easy to hide, perhaps, but that was only true while they were in their respective apartment.

She raised her hand slowly, uncertainly and offered a timid, "Ibuki can help."

Chiaki nodded, like she had expected and was owed such an offer. Rightfully so, Ibuki supposed.

"But, uh, I don't think Ibuki will be much help without some coffee first."

It would have shocked her from any other stranger, but considering from the beginning Chiaki showed nothing more than slight confusion at finding a stranger in her apartment, Ibuki was unsurprised when her candy-haired hostess hummed in reply and started the coffee maker without arguing. Ibuki found herself taking a seat at the small kitchen table without any invitation.

Chiaki didn't appear to mind when she sat down across from Ibuki, setting a plain white mug in front of her. Her own mug had a black cat with its back arched.

The kitchen was silent while they sipped their coffee, until Ibuki began tapping her overgrown finger nails on the table. First at random intervals, then it turned into a predictable beat. "Rescuing A Cute Cat With A Cute Stranger," she murmured to herself.

"Hm?" Chiaki glanced up from her drink.

Ibuki gave a half-smile. "Ibuki likes to write songs. I decided if Ibuki wrote one about this, that's what I'd call it."

"What type of music?"

She leaned back in her chair as her smile fell. No one was normally interested in her particular genre and she was worried this (very attractive) new friend might be less than enthusiastic about the answer. She found herself anxiously twisting at a lip piercing as she responded, "Well, Ibuki's band is sort of screamo, heavy metal..."

"Ah."

There was nothing else to say on the matter, Ibuki assumed with a sigh. She gazed at Chiaki intently, hoping it wasn't too obvious when she was almost unable to tear her eyes away. Or maybe she just didn't want to look away. She'd known (and dated) lots of pretty girls, cute girls, girls with supermodel bodies. Some as attractive, but none as peculiar as this particular specimen.

Chiaki gently, slowly, lifted her coffee mug to her mouth, holding the handle between her fingertips as Ibuki watched. Dainty was the only way to put it, she thought.

Chiaki was dainty. She was shorter than Ibuki by at least two inches, and her presence was much more quiet. Chiaki was pastel and Ibuki was neon. Ibuki toyed with the comparison.

She felt for a moment like she had overstayed her welcome and was about to slide out of her seat and say a brief goodbye when she remembered the missing cat.

And she would have stopped anyway when she heard: "What's your band called?"

It took a moment for Ibuki to process the question as one directed at her after revealing her band's genre. Especially from a pretty, non-threatening girl whom she couldn't imagine having a taste for heavy metal. A second moment was spent wracking her memory for the current band name.

"It gets changed a lot," she finally said. "Last night we played as 'Apocalypse Sunday'. Last week we were 'Secret Society of Tree Frogs'--"

At this Chiaki's pink lips tilted up in a smile that started Ibuki's heart _thump badump thump_ -ing again.

"Yeah, it's different. Ibuki doesn't pick them. I want to work on the music, but they want a good, memorable name first."

The chair scraped against the kitchen tile as Chiaki stood up from the table. "Almost finished that?"

Ibuki looked down into her mug, at the dark liquid inside. Swirled it around. "Yeah."

"I'm going to go change, so just leave it in the sink when you're done. I'll do the dishes later...probably."

Watching the pyjama-cladden girl disappear out the doorway, Ibuki was suddenly consious of her own wrinkled clothes. She wondered if she might be able to sneak to her own apartment to change into a fresh outfit, or at least one that didn't smell of sweat, and make it back before Chiaki could notice.

She gulped down the remaining coffee in a hurry and abandoned it in the sink as she had been instructed, but didn't make it to the door before Chiaki had returned, now in a pink skirt and blouse.

Again, Ibuki was struck by how _cute_ she was.

"Are you ready to go?" Chiaki asked. When Ibuki nodded she mumbled, "I'll get the treats, I think they might be helpful."

"Do you think I could run and get dressed and--" Ibuki started.

But Chiaki wasn't listening; she'd grabbed a small bag of cat treats and had walked past Ibuki, out the door.

Ibuki snatched up her purse from the sofa and followed, waited while Chiaki locked the apartment door. As they stood there, she tried again: "I raved and slept in these clothes," she whined.

If Chiaki heard, she was too preoccupied to care, scanning every nook and cranny in their slow walk down the hallway for her missing cat. "Midna," she called out over Ibuki's wardrobe complaints. She flashed the other girl a determined pout and suggested, "Let's split up."

Ibuki nodded enthusiastically, grateful for the chance to clean herself up and make herself presentable for this adorable girl. Being a tired, stinking mess was already a bother, but in front of a girl she might possibly consider asking out for coffee? (Or maybe something else, since they'd already had coffee together). That was unacceptable.

As soon as Chiaki disappeared around the corner, she hurried off in the opposite direction, to the elevator.

"God, Ibuki was tired," she muttered to herself, prodding the eighth floor button. Her current floor--Chiaki's floor--was only the seventh.

When she arrived on the _eighth_ floor, she followed the same route down the hall to her apartment as she had to Chiaki's. She hadn't broken into the _entirely_ wrong apartment the previous night. Right number, just the wrong floor.

Her door, left unlocked as it all too often was, opened with ease. She dumped her belongings on the carpet against the wall, slammed the door shut. As she started for the shower, she stripped off her sweat and beer scented t-shirt, tossing it aside with plans of throwing it in the laundry later.

On stepping out of the shower, she hurriedly changed into a fresh skirt and shirt, towel dried her hair quickly and tied it back in an effort to make herself presentable before returning to Chiaki and their search.

She twisted the knob and swung open the door, was about to step out of the apartment but--

There was a cat. A very familiar black and orange cat. The same cat, in fact, that she had caught on her balcony, sometimes under her bed if the sliding door was left open all day.

It let out a loud meow that echoed down the hallway.

Without another moment of hesitation, Ibuki scooped up the cat, hugging it close to her chest as she hurried down the hall back to the elevator.

It squirmed and struggled but she carried on until she was back on Chiaki's floor. Her neighbor was a short ways around the corner so she shoved the cat out for her to take, ignoring its loud protests against being held so uncomfortably.

"I think I saw the landlord," Chiaki said, accepting the bundle of fur. "Next door was complaining about a leak yesterday."

"So?"

"No pets," she replied.

They headed back to Chiaki's apartment. She held the cat like a baby, except one hand she had placed over its mouth to muffle its meows in case the landlord was near.

Barely a moment after the door was closed, with Chiaki on the carpet dangling a feather toy for the feline she affectionately referred to as "Midna", when they heard a pounding on the door.

Ibuki instinctively leapt off of the sofa and twisted the door handle, but Chiaki stopped her before the door was fully open.

"Do you have pets?" the man standing outside the door asked.

Ibuki opened her mouth to speak before being pushed out of the way by Chiaki. "No, we don't." the pastel-haired girl answered.

She glanced back at Ibuki, then at Midna.

The guitarist took the hint, scooping the cat and its chubby companion, Rallen, one under each arm. Rallen hissed as she carried them to the bathroom, the only room visible from her position in the living room. She dropped both cats in the far corner and scurried out of the room, slamming the door shut.

"Would you allow me to look around?"

She heard the voice of the landlord from the doorway.

Chiaki appeared to stiffen, but she nodded and let him in.

He glanced suspiciously at Ibuki who was nervously twirling her thumbs.

A meow sounded from the bathroom, startling both girls.

"Are you certain you aren't hiding any pets?" the landlord demanded.

"Yes," Chiaki responded. "I think."

Another meow.

"I believe that's a cat," he said, standing up to check the source of the noise.

Ibuki tugged at her hair. She couldn't let Chiaki get in trouble. At the cost of her cats, she would never speak to Ibuki again.

"Meow?"

The landlord glared at Ibuki. "Excuse me?"

"Uh, oh. It was nothing. Ibuki was just, uh...was thinking?"

He narrowed his eyes, but looked away.

The moment Ibuki heard another voice from the bathroom, she spoke again, louder. "Meow."

This time he turned to Chiaki. "Is this normal for her?"

Chiaki nodded fervently.

Taking this as an insult to her new character, Ibuki let out a hiss at the man.

He scanned the apartment once more, tilting his head to check under the coffee table, and then the kitchen. Ibuki continued her charade, doing her best cat impression each time she heard some noise from the bathroom.

The landlord turned back to Chiaki, avoiding eye contact with Ibuki. "Thank you for your time," he muttered. "Sorry for any trouble."

Without waiting for a response, he left the apartment.

Chiaki let out a small laughed as she thanked Ibuki.

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, nearly had to look away before a scratching at the bathroom door reminded Chiaki to let the cats out.

"Hey, uh." Ibuki reached for the back of her neck and was relieved to be looking at the back of Chiaki's head instead of being face to face as she spoke. "Would you want to go out for lunch with Ibuki sometime?"

There was no reply, and Ibuki felt her heart pounding harder with each passing moment before Chiaki turned and replied with a bright smile and red cheeks, "Sure."


End file.
